Life Plan

Chapter 6, Follow-up

The second follow-up subject entered the hospital with a perfect diary card. Liu Chichi followed behind Shen Shuyi, learning how to verify information and prepare samples.

Shen Shuyi was explaining the significance of the diary cards in the experiment when Liu Chichi suddenly pointed to the medication schedule and asked, "Is there a prescribed time to take this medication?"

"Generally, it should be a fixed time period, with fluctuations not exceeding half an hour."

"Look at this," Liu Chichi pointed to the medication time from a week ago, "Starting from this day, his medication time changed from the previously relatively stable 18:10-18:12 to 18:04-18:30. The 2-minute fluctuation shows that he has a very strong sense of time and may have set an alarm. But starting from this day, the difference suddenly jumped to half an hour."

Liu Chichi is very sensitive to time. Her mother works at a supermarket on a shift system, finishing her night shift at 9:30 PM and arriving home around 10 PM. During her middle school years, her mother was very strict with her studies. To cope with her mother's checks, Liu Chichi made sure her desk was always in a state of "writing furiously" before 10 PM.

As long as you keep an important date in mind, there generally won't be any major changes.

Shen Shuyi informed the researchers of Liu Chichi's findings, but so far, the inquiry records are all positive—no concurrent medication, no adverse events, no new symptoms, and the test results are in line with expectations.

The half-hour fluctuation in medication dosage is within the scope of the plan and is not something that needs to be asked, but Liu Chichi still feels that there is a problem with this timing.

It was just a matter of a single sentence; the researcher casually asked, "Why is your medication schedule different lately?"

"I'm not as punctual as before at work, but I'm trying my best to keep it on track. Does that affect the results?"

"How's the new job? Is it tough?"

Director Jiang is very responsible; he remembers information about most of the participants, including the person in front of him. He doesn't have a fixed job. This participant's compliance is unstable; he can take the medication and undergo treatment according to the protocol, but rarely reports adverse reactions.

He was a middle-aged man who wasn't good with words. He treated adverse reactions like a heavy burden in life, adhering to the principle of enduring as much as possible. It wasn't until Shen Shuyi gave him a serious warning that he reluctantly described the pain he experienced while taking the medication.

Lies may contain logical contradictions, but concealment is often flawless. An event that never happened naturally leaves no clues for investigation.

"Thank goodness, my health has improved a lot, and I can go to the construction site again, where I can earn more money."

Given the job and the weather, Director Jiang has already opened his patient's medical record, and if nothing unexpected happens, he'll likely add: "He's very prone to heatstroke, isn't he?"

"No, my boss gave us some cooling drinks, and I drink them every day."

Shen Shuyi quickly searched for "Huoxiang Zhengqi Water" and displayed a dazzling array of product photos in front of him: "Which kind of cooling water do you want?"

The man pointed to one of the pictures: "This is it."

Director Jiang's gentle smile vanished instantly, and he looked at the man seriously: "This is a traditional Chinese medicine, and it is also a medicine. You must report when you take it and write it in your diary card."

The follow-up visit brought many surprises; today's work, another 3 achievements.

Once outside, Shen Shuyi excitedly grasped Liu Chichi's hand: "You're so thoughtful, you really make me proud."

They had a similar experience following up with a subject who had perfect diary cards, with no missing entries and very few corrections.

Liu Chichi withdrew her hand somewhat embarrassedly, but couldn't hide her joy inside; it had been a long time since anyone had praised her.

There was an increase in the amount of data to be reported today. Researchers worked overtime after finishing their outpatient clinics, and Shen Shuyi's email kept ringing. Liu Chichi followed behind her to check the information, which was similar to her work in the pharmacy.

Liu Chichi couldn't help but glance at the bottom right corner of the computer screen, arriving at the inpatient building at exactly six o'clock. She checked whichever door was open among the six elevators until she saw Hao Jia, but her wheelchair armrests had already been taken.

It was a man, who smiled and spoke to Hao Jia while looking down at her. Liu Chichi only glanced at him before turning and returning to her office, slumping onto the desk like a wilted sunflower.

Shen Shuyi looked up at her: "Didn't you go to eat?"

"I have no appetite."

Do you have time now?

"Um."

"I've already communicated with them, but the subject is quite old. Could you contact them again to confirm tomorrow's follow-up?"

Liu Chichi suddenly snapped out of her daze. "Me?"

In the afternoon, she assisted Shen Shuyi in organizing data and inadvertently saw some strange reasons given by the subjects—they deliberately missed taking their medication because they felt it was unlucky to do so during the holidays; the medicine packaging boxes were custom-made in colors they didn't like, and according to Shen Shuyi, the custom colors they requested were different each time.

The longer the follow-up period, the less seriously the participants took the trial.

Initially, for the sake of their health, some people kept detailed diary entries, even noting the time they defecated. However, as their condition stabilized, the content of their diary entries became increasingly perfunctory.

Liu Chichi no longer had time to be prejudiced against the job; she was now prejudiced against the people in it. She even doubted that she was in pediatrics, while Shen Shuyi was an emotionally stable kindergarten teacher.

At that moment, when Shen Shuyi handed the list to her, she almost instinctively took a step back, then realized she was working and walked back.

Perhaps the air conditioning was too strong, because she felt her teeth chattering: "Should I contact them?"

"Believe me, this patient is very cooperative."

Liu Chichi carefully read the medical record: Qin Yulin, 71 years old, heart failure, past medical history: coronary atherosclerotic heart disease. The remarks section stated: retired university professor, good compliance.

This "good compliance" gave Liu Chichi some comfort, meaning that the other party strictly followed the doctor's orders for treatment, including taking medication on time and in the correct dosage, and undergoing regular medical check-ups.

She dialed the phone: "Hello, is this Professor Qin Yulin?"

"Yes you are?"

"I am in charge of clinical trial research at the Central Hospital."

"Isn't this Dr. Shen's number?"

Liu Chichi could sense the other party's strong wariness, which showed that the overwhelming anti-fraud publicity was very effective, which was a good thing.

Shen Shuyi took the phone and explained, "It's me, Professor Qin. This is our new colleague. We're getting acquainted with the work."

Sure enough, when the call came back, Liu Chichi felt the other person's gentleness.

In fact, Professor Qin was more familiar with the job than Liu Chichi herself. He not only listened patiently to her slightly stuttering questions, but also took the initiative to confirm with her what items to bring.

The next day, Professor Qin arrived with his wife. The old lady had a full head of silver hair, wore a soft long dress with a satin belt, and helped Professor Qin, who was wearing a shirt.

The two arrived early and quietly, their diary cards were neat, and their names and dates were signed in the corrections.

As they left, Liu Chichi clung to the door, watching them go. Only after they entered the elevator did she reluctantly turn to Shen Shuyi and ask, "Will we ever see each other again?"

Shen Shuyi had just hung up the phone with the courier company. A smile played on her lips, and her voice was cheerful: "It went smoothly, right?"

"Yes, I would call it a moment of respite." If only everyone were like Professor Qin.

Shen Shuyi is collecting data and compiling it for the researchers to sign. "This is a drug trial that started two years ago, targeting chronic diseases. Before the trial ends, long-term follow-up is required according to the time nodes."

"Long-term follow-up?"

"It's used for survival analysis. Most cancer drugs require survival follow-up, and this drug is specifically required by the treatment plan." Shen Shuyi is very strict about her work, "So you must carefully review the treatment plan and be well-prepared for the work."

"Will any of the test subjects die?"

"Yes, some of the subjects were already terminally ill, even beyond cure, and some died from acute complications before they even started using the medication."

When truly facing the possibility of death, people tend to unconsciously avoid the topic. More sensitive individuals might become agitated just hearing certain words, and she couldn't help but urgently retort, "Professor Qin is controlling himself very well."

But Shen Shuyi didn't care about her urgency, her voice calm to the point of being almost heartless: "But he is the oldest test subject."

Liu Chichi rarely heard her speak to her in this tone, and thought that she had talked back and made her angry, just like how arguing with her mother would make her unhappy.

She instinctively lowered her head, bracing herself for a barrage of accusations. The initial excitement subsided, replaced by a purplish-red embarrassment that clung to her cheeks and spread to behind her ears.

The area above her remained silent for a long time, but Shen Shuyi stood right in front of her.

The silence intensified Liu Chichi's embarrassment. When people are too embarrassed, they sometimes find a spark of courage. She cautiously looked up to observe Shen Shuyi's expression.

She only saw the latter leaning on the table with one hand, looking at her with eyes full of confusion. When their eyes met, Shen Shuyi raised an eyebrow: "What are you doing?"

"I thought you... were angry." Liu Chichi's voice gradually weakened.

Why should I be angry?

I think I said something wrong.

"I'm not a teacher, why should I argue with you about right and wrong? Besides, I'm not angry with you."

"I'm sorry, I won't do it again next time."

Shen Shuyi leaned back helplessly: "Liu Chichi, as long as you don't do something stupid on purpose, no one in society will waste time correcting your right or wrong. This is just a normal discussion, there's no right or wrong. You don't need to care about my expression, we're just colleagues, getting the job done is the only thing we need to care about."

As Liu Chichi's embarrassment subsided, she still couldn't tell whether Shen Shuyi's first half of her words was a message or a warning, but she could sense the most important meaning Shen Shuyi was conveying—that among them, work was the most important thing.

She suddenly understood why Shen Shuyi was so famous in the institution; it wasn't just because of her unusual hairstyle. She cared about the distance the subjects lived in and followed up carefully, and her excellent social skills allowed her to navigate the subjects' evasive conversations with ease.

For the institution, these things don't mean she's morally superior or has strong social skills. Rather, they mean that the projects she's in charge of, researchers, and sponsors will be able to obtain clinical trial results that are "within the window of opportunity for visits and without concealment of drug efficacy."

In an industry where every clinical coordinator is likely to be addressed as "you CRCs," the fact that she is called "Shen Shuyi" by most people is not because she is good at interpersonal relationships, but because she is highly capable at her job.

Liu Chichi was very envious. If she could be like Shen Shuyi, her mother would be very happy.

Before going to sleep, Liu Chichi suddenly remembered that Shen Shuyi, who always answered questions, still had a question for her. She anxiously raised her upper body, but in the end, she just turned over.

Never mind. She thought she'd ask again next time they met.